"Very well; I'm ready to see you fall off."
Phil sprang lightly to the back of the ring horse while Dimples, who had brought a ringmaster's whip with her, cracked the whip and called shrilly to her horse. The old gray fell into its accustomed easy gallop, Phil sitting lightly on the animal's hip, moving up and down with the easy grace of a finished rider.
After they had swept twice around the ring, the boy sprang to his feet, facing ahead, and holding his short crop in both hands, leaning slightly toward the center of the ring, treading on fairy feet from one end of the broad back to the other.
Next he varied his performance by standing on one foot, holding the other up by one hand, doing the same graceful step that he had on both feet a moment before.
Now he tried the same feats riding backwards, a most difficult performance for any save a rider of long experience.
Mrs. Robinson became so absorbed in his riding that she forgot to urge the gray along or to crack the whip. The result was that the old horse stopped suddenly.
Phil went right on. He was in a fair way to break his neck, as he was plunging toward the turf head first.
"Ball!" she cried, meaning to double oneself up into as near an approach to a round ball as was possible.
But Phil already had begun to do this very thing. And he did another remarkable feat at the same time. He turned his body in the air so that he faced to the front, and the next instant landed lightly on his feet outside the ring.
Phil blew a kiss to the amazed owner, turning back to the ring again.